A Wish of Love
by thewingedthing
Summary: When Finley turned 21, she made a wish to go on an adventure. Months later, after being kidnapped and sold into slavery, she wishes again, for freedom and love. Meanwhile, our favorite Company of dwarves finds themselves in the town of Bree. Fili lays eyes on a young woman in distress, and his whole world changes. Fili/OC, Movie-verse [Rated M for descriptions of sexual abuse]
1. Descent

**Warning, please read first: _This is a story involving both sex slavery/abuse and the aftermath of someone who's experienced it. I mean no disrespect to those who are offended by/have experienced this, and have portrayed it as cleanly as possible. Please read at your own risk. Thanks :)_**

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**Chapter One**

_**Descent**_

This was not what I'd wanted.

_The hands that groped, searched, and found. The mouth that whispered dirty things in my ear, sucked on my lips and skin, burned words of despair into my mind. The people who did these things to me, who took what wasn't theirs to take, who used me day and night, whenever and wherever they pleased. They were my torturers, only it was a different kind of torture. And they knew this. And they loved it. They relished every second of my breaking, over and over again it would happen, with each new hand that caressed by lips, my cheek, the inside of my thigh-_

When I'd made my birthday wish on the eve of my twentieth year, I had not expected nor thought anything past the fact that it was a silly tradition, something my family had always done before a birthday. _'Make a wish',_ my mother would say, _'before the moon has fully risen, make a wish for yourself'_. A frivolous wish, one that, over time, I learned would never come true. As a young girl, I'd pleaded for ponies and princes, ribbons of silk and clothing fashioned from gold. And I received none of it. As I grew older, I began to wish for more practical things: a new hand-mirror, some extra money for cloth, to fashion a dress from- things that I knew I would one day likely receive without the help of some fraud wish. But on the eve of my twentieth birthday, something came over me, some inexplicable feeling. I wanted to go somewhere, anywhere. I couldn't bear thinking of living the rest of my pointless life in such a small, boring village. My brother had recently departed to the great city of Men, Gondor, on what he called an "adventure". And so that night, that is what I wished for. An adventure of my own. Imagine the great shock that came to me when my wish came true the next day. Or did it? When I'd wished for "adventure", being kidnapped was not what I'd had in mind.

_His hands were everywhere on me. With one palm he covered my mouth, so that I could not make a noise, could not scream. The other hand he let dance along the side of my face, down my neck, lingering on my breasts before it continued its journey across my stomach. His fingers ghosted along my inner thighs and I wanted to die. My heart was beating so hard it hurt, it hurt so bad. Why was this happening? What- I had never done anything to deserve this! The hand over my mouth clamped down harder, cutting off my horrified cry as the hand caressing me was replaced with something else._

_No._

_Please no, don't do this to me._

_The man laughs. I cry._

I was taken on my birthday, stolen from where I sat by the side of the road, picking berries from one of the many bushes that grew there. They were to be the topping to my cake that my mother had baked so lovingly. Now they rot on the side of the road, spilling from my overturned basket. There wasn't even much of a struggle, which I hate myself for. After years of wrestling with my brother, I couldn't even last five minutes with my assailants. _There was _three_ of them_, I always tell myself, though it never makes me feel any better. I was hit over the head with something hard, and the next time I woke up, I was in a different world.

_They are rough. Too rough. There will be bruises. I will hurt terribly tomorrow morning. I wish they'd stop. A long time ago I gave up begging, gave up pleading and crying. I think they liked it when I did that- begged and cried, I mean. At least now, with me being as silent as I possibly can manage, they won't succeed in making me grovel in the dirt like some animal. That is what I am after all, isn't it? Some animal, who is kept locked up and out of sight until it is needed. I want to cry out, to let them know how badly they are hurting me as they have their way, but that would only make things worse. No, I must stay silent, I must stay strong. But already my strength is waining. It's been weeks- how much longer will I be able to take this before there is nothing left but the shell of who I once was? The thought frightens me; is the reason I am up in the small hours before dawn. How long until I am no longer myself?_

The men who have taken me are from the South, I can tell by their accents. Tall, heavily muscled, with stinking, tangled hair and rotting teeth, and undeniably evil. They don't even bother answering my questions, simply smack me several times to shut me up, then get in my face and tell me "how it's gonna go".

_"We gon' take you, put your 'air up, maybe put you in a be'er dress, make you nice an' pre'y. Then a'fer that, it's to the 'ighest bidder you go. Sound righ' lass? Now no screamin', an' no fussin', or you'll 'ave us to answer too."_

And even though I screamed and fought, I was easily overpowered. The first night I was sold to an older man, from some town by a lake. He was well dressed, and, mercifully, much cleaner than the others that were there to buy. But what consolation is that, when such a heavy price must be payed from me?

_"Now girl, stop yer cryin'. I didn't pay for a waterfall, I payed for a virgin."_

_He was gruff; very cold hearted. I was destroyed that night, all for a mere seven gold coins._

The selling went on every night at dusk. I would be one of the last girls put up, since my inexperience made me the more valuable of the bunch. I had not thought that the second night could ever possibly be worse than the first. How sadly mistaken I can be at times.

_I was not even five minutes alone in a room with the man who was to bed me when the door to the room came crashing down. At first I thought it was my papa, come to save the day. Then when I didn't recognize my father, I thought it was my brother. But fate can be icily cruel at times. Turns out, the man who had purchased my services, as the slave traders so artfully called it, had payed with coins of not gold, but dyed bronze. I was ripped from the bed, only to be thrown to the floor. My captor, in his anger, killed the man, before falling upon me. It was painful, the most painful thing I've ever experienced. Scars were left, both physical and mental, that will never heal._

_Not ever._

Days faded to weeks, and weeks to months. I was kept in dirty room after dirty room, flitting from town to town, wherever my captors felt like taking me. Every night I cried, every dawn I told myself to stay strong, only to break down and end up begging any deity that cared to listen to_ just keep me sane._ Keep me myself. My hair grew long and tangled, my face turned a shade darker from all the dirt caked into my skin- I only received a bath once or twice a month.

It hurt to move- to walk, to sit, to sleep. On the first day of the third month, I began to wish- how ironic- that I would be rescued somehow. By the end of the first week I changed tactics, wishing instead that I would die, peacefully, in my sleep. That was my greatest wish, one that I put all my soul into. And then that too changed. I cared not for where I died nor when, only that it would happen as soon as possible. The fates mocked me, granting none of these wishes, leaving me to become the shell I was destined to be.

And then, one night halfway into the fourth month... I wished again for something hopeful. It was pointless, really. After the man who'd bought my body- I refused to refer to it as "services"- had fallen asleep, and was snoring into his pillow, I lay awake, wincing as I shifted, staring out of the grimy window at the moon. It was rising in the cloudless sky, glowing down at me from far away, from freedom. How many times had I tried to escape (they locked the door, and were always watchful of the windows, I soon learned), and yet here was the moon, so close yet so far, mocking me with its liberty. I closed my eyes, and wished. _Let me be free, free as the moon. Let me escape this hole of despair, and find a place of peace. All I wish for is peace, and warmth, and love._ How I had taken it for granted in my past life. I fell asleep that night with a small hope in my heart, the first in many days, though I did not want to think of the ever nudging thought that even if I ever did get free, I would not be the same person. I was broken, fractured, and I wasn't too sure if I could be repaired.

This was all, of course, before I met _him_. Before he saved me from this wretched life, though at the time I was far more a shell than I'd thought, to realize what was in front of me. Or rather, who was in front of me.

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_This idea had been stuck in my head for the longest time. I really wanted to try something that isn't, y'know, all light and fluffy and omgeverythingisamazing. So let me know if you liked it, depending on people's reactions, I may decide just stick to my other fic for now. I plan to have the next chapter up by tomorrow at the latest, which will have tons of protectivesavior!Fili, promise :) Reviews are loved!_


	2. Winking Giants

**_A big thanks to everyone who faved/subbed/reviewed! I really am glad you like it so far and appreciate the feedback :) Here's the next chapter!_**

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**Chapter Two**

_**Winking Giants**_

Fili tried not to stare at the giants as they walked by, but in all honesty, his self discipline was waning. Of all the years he'd been alive, only a handful of times in that eighty two had he been this close to Men. Shuffling down the stinking streets of the small town of Bree they (well, the elder dwarves, really) had decided to spend the night in, Fili found himself pressing a hand to Kili's arm, pushing his brother deeper into the middle of the Company as they passed through a throng of shifty looking men, followed by a great beast of a fellow, who lumbered past on the brothers' right. When Kili turned, shrugging Fili's hand off of him before he cast his brother an annoyed, I-can-fend-for-myself look, Fili didn't hesitate to nod in the direction of the bear-like man. Kili eyed the giant warily- his head only making it as far as the man's waist.

"This isn't right," He muttered, turning away as Thorin and Dwalin turned a corner, leading the band of dwarves down another dismal looking street. In the distance, a battered sign hung, and when Fili squinted he could just make out the metal wrought words beneath a rearing horse that read _'The Prancing Pony'_. He caught his brother's doubt riddled eyes. Were they really going to stay in such a place? Surrounded by men that Durin only knew what business they were buried in?

Apparently, the answer was yes. Thorin turned round to take in the Company, gaze trailing over each familiar face before landing on Kili's, then sliding slowly over so that he met Fili's eyes. Nodding once, Thorin pushed the large door to the inn open with his arm, the old wood creaking on it's hinges as it was swung wide. Immediately, a cacophony of voices and scrapping chairs hit Fili's ears. Filing in one by one, the dwarves muttered to themselves, their nervousness reflected in one another's expressions. As Thorin spoke to the owner of the inn- who had to lean forward in an effort to see the dwarf, though Thorin was by far the tallest of the Company- Fili took in the place where they'd be spending the night. It was clearly old, and twice as dirty at that. Men, and only Men, were everywhere, filling every nook, cranny, and corner of the large room. Beer dripped from beards, and food riddled the floor as the giant folk ate and shouted and laughed. Some sat alone, brooding, and it was when Fili noticed this that he quickly glanced to his right, feeling a gaze sliding over him. A greasy looking man by the fire grunted when Fili caught him staring, glowing eyes disappearing as he took a swig from his tankard of beer before he turned away. Fili glared. It was like they'd never seen a dwarf before.

"Will you and your company be havin' anything to eat, Master Dwarf, or shall I escort you to your rooms?" The innkeeper seemed kind enough, Fili shifted, feeling uneasy. Beside him, Kili and Ori were staring around with widened eyes, something that Fili would have to tease them (especially Kili) about later.

Thorin turned, eyes sweeping the dimly lit tavern once before making eye contact with Dwalin, who simply shrugged. Turning back to the innkeeper, he grunted, "If you have room, we'd welcome some supper."

The dwarves were led by the bustling man towards the back of the room, directly across from a set of rickety looking stairs, leading up to where their rooms would no doubt be located. Fili did his best to ignore the stares of the men, but it was hard- he felt like he was on display, such as a strange insect or orc might be put, and this bothered him greatly. Once the Company had been seated, Fili allowed himself to look up at his brother, who was staring at the other dwarves, who in turn were staring at- Fili swallowed, noticing the sudden silence that filled his ears for the first time. Every single person in the tavern had ceased in their business, each staring directly at the dwarf-packed table. Most were glaring, though a few had grins on their faces and were nudging one another stupidly.

"Just ignore them, lads." Bofur muttered, mostly to the younger of the dwarves, who were clearly becoming increasingly nervous. Fili glanced at the other end of the table. Dwalin, Balin, and Bifur and Bofur were taking no heed of the constant stares, talking quietly among themselves. Bombur sat at the end of the table, head swiveling as he eye'd the other men's food. Dori and Nori had wedged themselves on either side of their youngest brother, and were attempting to get Ori to take his attention off the men. Fili frowned, turning to look at Kili. _Perhaps I should do the same._ However, before he could think of what to say that would sufficiently distract Kili, Gloin beat him to it, slapping the table with his hand and startling the younger dwarf out of his own staring.

"Laddie, did I ever tell ya 'bout what my son did when he saw his first Man?"

Kili swallowed. "Little Gimli has seen Men before?"

"Oh aye," Oin cut in, a twinkle in his eye. "Took him to town with us to show him the forge- he'd been beggin' for weeks!"

Fili grinned to himself, leaning forward so that he could join in listening to the brothers' story. Beside him, Kili nodded, grinning, attention stolen away from the uncomfortable stares. Catching Gloin's eye, Fili nodded to him subtly in thanks. Gloin winked.

**~*What~Do~You~Wish~For~Most~***

"So then lit'le Gimli jus' stares at me an' says, "father, why are those forging tools so big?'. And I look down at him an' say 'well you know son, they are a Man's tools".

The dwarves all nodded, ignoring their food and drink (except Bombur, of course, and Thorin, who sat back in his chair, stoic, though listening), completely enraptured in Oin and Gloin's tale.

"An' then," Oin cut in, laughter causing him to have to pause for a moment. "An' then Gimli says, "is tha' why everything you forge looks so bad, father? 'Cause you use a Man's tools?'"

The entire Company roared with laughter, ignoring the glares cast their way. Thorin smiled, picking at his food as the rest of his comrades bent over themselves, sniggering and pounding their fists on the wooden table as they tried to regain composure. Fili grinned, laughing just as hard as the rest of them at the tiny dwarf's words.

Night had closed in around the inn, and though they were all plenty weary, still the dwarves had insisted on eating. Now they sat, the food hot and just waiting to be consumed. Fili felt his belly rumble, and pushed himself back in his seat, legs dangling over like they had when he was but a wee dwarfling. Ignoring the irritation that welled up inside him at this, Fili reached for a knife, glad to see that the innkeeper had had their utensils and plates switched so that they were actually a small enough size for the dwarves to use with ease.

Fili was just about to shove a large piece of meat into his mouth- famished from a days traveling- when his gaze happened to wander upwards, away from the food and his companions, as a gust of cold wind blew in from outside. Through the haze and smoke of the inn, Fili watched as two burly men shuffled in, speaking quickly with the owner. The first man shoved a few coins across the counter, an ugly sneer on his piggish features. Turning, he shook hands with the second man- handing him a pouch of what looked like money-, who winked before turning and exiting the inn. Fili frowned, his eyes narrowing.

Behind the large man stood a girl, nearly half the brute's height. She was covered in a cloak, the hood pulled firmly up over her eyes so that all Fili could see was a bit of her nose, a slender cheekbone, and her mouth, which was tugged violently downwards, in a grimace. The man violently yanked the girl after him, and Fili stood suddenly. Shoving the tiny, cloak-clad girl up the stairs, Fili followed her form until she disappeared round a corner. The man paused behind her, turned, eyes scanning the mess of tables, chairs, and rowdy patrons of the Prancing Pony. Fili looked away quickly when the brute's gaze passed over them, lingering for a moment longer on the unexpected sight of so many dwarves. After a moment, glancing upwards tentatively, Fili found the stairway empty.

"Fili?"

Fili jumped. turning to find Kili, as well as half of the others, staring at him concernedly. He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking down to find himself standing. When had he stood up again? Balin raised an eyebrow at him.

"You alright, laddie?'

"I-Yes, I am." Fili muttered, sitting down quickly, embarrassed. Kili leaned closer to him once the other dwarves had gone back to their eating and chatter.

"Fili, you sure you're okay?"

Fili turned to look at his younger brother, finding his eyes full of concern. "What happened, again?"

"You just stood up real quickly- out of nowhere. I kept calling your name... but you wouldn't respond."

Fili nodded, eyes falling to his lap. He hadn't heard Kili, hadn't noticed when he'd stood up. He blinked, his appetite lost. All he could see was that girl- still-, the grimace on her lips, the way that man had shoved her. Fili looked up suddenly. The pouch. The money pouch that had been exchanged; the way the other man had winked. Why _had_ he winked?

Suddenly, Fili's throat became very dry, the din of the room falling away, lost to his ears. His palms began to sweat. Was it possible that-? Could that man-? Was that girl-? Fili cast a glance around at the rest of the Company, who were busy watching as Bombur raced against Nori in who could eat a drumstick faster. Had Fili, had he... just witnessed what he _think_ he had? Fili shifted. When he'd pleaded with his mother for permission for he and his brother to accompany their uncle on this quest, he'd expected a number of horrible, ghastly encounters along the way. But not- He'd only been thinking of orcs and goblins, elves and evil men. _Well, perhaps this_ **_was_** _an evil man._

When Fili got to his feet this time, he was aware of it. Turning his gaze from Kili, who was giving him a confused look, Fili nodded his head at Thorin, who had his brow raised in question.

"The loo," Fili mouthed at Thorin, not wanting to shout over the swelling voices that filled the inn, pointing in the direction of the inn door. Thorin nodded, returning to his conversation with Balin.

Fili turned, taking a deep breath before heading in the direction of the door. At the last second, and with a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure no one from the Company was looking, he swerved, ducking around several men- who shouted something incoherent to Fili as he passed- and made for the stairs.

Fili hesitated at the bottom step- _what was he doing?_-, but the face of the girl flashed through his mind, coupled with the roughness of the boarish man, and the fact that he was still in the view of Thorin and the other dwarves, and Kili was often known for tattling, even if he didn't mean to at times...

Ascending the steps quickly, Fili soon found himself on the second floor landing, staring down a dusty , dimly lit hallway. He put a hand to his knives. Any one of these rooms could be the right one. Or the wrong one. Slipping quietly over to the first door on the right, Fili leaned his head against it, straining to hear even the slightest noise. Nothing. Fili sighed, the huffed breath that escaped his nose causing him to tense. When no huge man exploded from one of the doors with a sword in hand, he relaxed. But only for a moment.

Putting a hand on the knob of the door before him, Fili took a breath before turning it slowly. The door cracked open. Again the resounding thought of _what am I doing? This is a bad idea, I should go back. What am I doing?_ flitted through his mind, but as Fili swung the door open soundlessly, knives at the ready, he pushed the doubts away.

The room was dark. Fili took a cautious steps forward, eyes and ears straining in the blackness. Suddenly, from his left, a noise sounded, a soft cry that had Fili whipping around, brandishing his knives. The cry came again, and without hesitating Fili leapt forward.

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_**I really had fun writing this! It's so different from anything else I've ever done- I hope you are enjoying it as much as I am :) As always, please review! I love positive and negative feedback, and if you have any suggestions or ideas, don't hesitate to tell me :D The next chapter should be up within the week- schoolwork providing, of course. **_


	3. The Edge of a Knife

Chapter Three

The Edge of a Knife

When I was twelve, my brother nearly died. We'd spent the entire day in the woods surrounding our home- he'd been teaching me how to climb trees that afternoon. Slithering nimbly through the boughs of an especially gigantic oak, Shilah had coaxed me to climb higher than ever I had done before, so that I was perched neatly on a wide branch some feet above him, staring down with wide eyes as he scaled the tree like a squirrel. He'd just reached my branch, hand stretching out to grasp the roughness of the bark- when he slipped. With only a hand clinging desperately to the branch I was frozen to, I watched as Shilah's eyes slide downwards, looking at the distance he would fall to the ground if his strength were to fail. Even I could tell that the fall would prove disastrous, if not deadly. He grunted, I remember his face was blank, like he was trying to hide his fear from his baby sister, from me. But his eyes... they spoke of a different story. One of a young boy about to fall, about to die.

"Finnley, climb down and go get help."

I hadn't been able to move- I was stuck. That was why Shilah had been climbing up in the first place, to get me. But now, as I gazed down at my brother, I felt my hands moving before any thought crossed my mind as to what I was doing, exactly. Gripping my brother's wrist tightly, I stared into his eyes, determined, before pulling backwards as hard as I could. I'm sure my grip on his arm was painful- it left bruises for weeks afterwards, but what does that matter, when his life was saved? When I'd managed to pull him to safety, we'd sat there, panting, shivering in fear and shock. Shiloh gasped, rubbing his wrist, and looked up at me. I looked back.

"I would never leave you here alone." I shifted my gaze to his wrist. "And I never would have let go."

My grip was so strong that day, laced with fear and adrenaline. Indeed, I thought to myself then that never before was I as strong as when I saved my brother in the tree, nor would I ever feel that strength within me again.

How wrong that prediction came to be. How wrong indeed. These thoughts were stuck in my head, rolling over and over as my grip on the tiny dagger tightened, tightened so hard that I was sure it would crack to bits. My nails, dirty, long and broken, dug crescents into equally dirty skin, but I hardly noticed. All my thought, all my life was bent on this knife clutched in my hand. Hidden beneath the dark folds of the cloak I was forced to wear, this weapon was a beacon of light, shining inconspicuously beneath the heavy material about my shoulders.

If circumstance allowed, I would have quirked a small smile at the irony of the situation, but the burly man behind me was hovering, pushing me further into the building, up stairs and down a hall- toward the room he'd rented for the night. How witty, that the people who'd caused me so much misery, who'd taken everything from me, had in turn given me my last hope. For without this cloak that they forced me to wear, without it's concealing layer of fabric, where would I have managed to hide the knife so quickly? Doubtless, I would have been caught, either by the man who it belonged to- swiped right off the table under his very nose, as I was being shoved to the stairs- or by the pig behind me, who's eyes were constantly roving.

We came to a door, I was pushed aside as the man wrestled it open with the key. He was very rough, very harsh in his movements. I swallowed- that could not bode well for me or my body the reassuring, delicious feel of the uneven wood on my palm and fingers caused my worries to leave me.

The door opened, banging against the wall loudly. Grabbing me by the collar, my buyer dragged me inside, great, muscled arms rippling as he threw me in the direction of the bed before turning and slamming the door shut behind him. He didn't bother locking it, and my heart soared. Luck! I had such luck tonight! First the knife, and now the door. I had been planning to try picking the lock, if the key could not be found (many of the men that had lain with me took heart in hiding the key beforehand).

Scrambling around so that I sat on the bed with my back to the man, I fiddled with the knife in my hand. I had to hid it somehow, get it in a spot where it would be easy to reach when the man, when we- I heard footsteps behind me, coming closer and closer. I acted quickly. Spinning round so that rolled across the bed, my hand worked in quickly pulling the knife from its hiding place, stashing it neatly under one of the white pillows at the head of the mattress. From the man's perspective, it looked like I'd merely rolled over in fright, trying to get myself farther away from him. Oh how little he really knew.

As large, rough hands began to graze my body, first pulling me closer before removing my cloak, I shut my eyes. This was it, this was the night it would happen- my wish would come true. As long as the pillow wasn't moved, by morning I would be free. That was a very large if, of course. Anything could happen. At this point, however, I no longer cared. That knife was my everything now. My last wish, my salvation, my rescue. And because of this, it must not be found. He will not see it- He cannot.

My heart beats within my chest, pounding harder than it ever has in my life. My thoughts flash to my brother, to his face as he dangled below me helplessly. That was me now, I realized. That was Finely, dangling high above the ground in the oak, and what was there to save her but the sharp tip of a knife. Either in his chest, or hers, if all went wrong.

I swallowed again as there was a pressure on my neck, his lips working a bruise on my tender skin. Not until the blade is piercing his heart, I told myself, eyes finding the light of the moon as it danced in from behind curtained windows. Not until then, will he know of my intentions.

~*What~Do~You~Wish~For~Most~*

In the darkness, there was nothing. No bed, no girl, no man looming over him with sword drawn. Only the dust that blanketed the floorboards, and several mice, which squirmed in fright, turning hairless tails and scrabbling noisily under a small wooden dresser.

Fili straightened, ignoring the way his hands shook, the grip on his knives not slacking in the slightest as he turned, eyeing the dark room, lit only by the light filtered in from the doorway. The floor creaked and groaned loudly as he made his way from the room, causing Fili to wince, though he knew there was no one else to hear the noise he was making. From downstairs, obnoxious laughter and chairs scrapping the ground jarringly- wood on wood- below drifted upstairs, trickling down the long hallway, past numerous doors. Fili swallowed, turning on the landing so that he faced the corridor before him. Doubts had begun to creep into his mind. This mission of his was folly. Why wasn't he downstairs, eating his fill, and drinking too, and laughing at his companions' jokes? What did he think he was doing, searching rooms like some crazed detective? How did he even know this girl needed help?

His boot was near silent as he took a step forward, and then another. Slowly, Fili began to make his way down the hall, ears pricked for any type of sound. All was quite, save the ruckus from down below, and even when Fili placed his sharp ears to dirty wooden doors, not a single breath could he pick up on the other side. Finally, he came to the end of the hall.

Sliding his daggers back into their holdings, Fili sighed gruffly, turning on the spot. Should he try searching all the rooms, or return to the Company? In truth, Fili was not sure what to do, something he would never had admitted if Kili had been with him. Fili froze, a sudden, terrible thought occurring to him, one that he wished and wished would go away, though it persisted horribly.

What if this girl had a brother, or a sister? And what if they had a relationship- a bond- that was as special- as close- as his and Kili's? A shiver ran down Fili's spine when he tried to picture how he'd react, if Kili were stolen, if Kili were taken away and- and- His heart had quickened now, it's pace like that of a hummingbirds wing beats. That was a fate to grisly to imagine.

With renewed vigor and a sharp, deep breath, Fili was on the move again, his short legs taking him to the closest door. Without any of his previous cautiousness, the young dwarf barged into the room, door banging open unceremoniously, causing the handle to disappear within the wall with a crunch. Stepping into the dimly lit room, Fili got about two paces before he froze, hands on his knives.

He always liked to think- especially around Kili, of course- that he knew how he'd react in every situation: Bravely, surely, and smartly- like a prince of the Durin line should. But now... The answer was farther from him than the Lonely Mountain, than Erebor.

Before him was a sight that forever lay burnt into Fili's mind. Upon the bed a giant mass crouched, and with a start of realization Fili ascertained that it was the boarish man from before. The man's shirt had been thrown to the floor, the only clothes remaining being his undergarments. The fat man was moaning, a low, guttural sound in his throat, as his lips and teeth grazed viscously over something lost beneath his bulky mass. Fili's eyes slid lower, though he would have rather looked away. His limbs felt frozen, his heart was chill.

Beneath the great pig, lost under his body, was the small woman, her dress discarded to the floor beside the bed. Her lower body was lost beneath the man, all but her bare shoulders and head peaking out as the man ravaged her skin with his mouth. Even in the poorly lit room, Fili could make out the tear that glittered on her cheek, the way her eyes stared vacantly into the distance. Her right arm was curled under the pillow beneath her, and with a start Fili realized that he could see something glinting beneath it.

But before he had time to stop, to think, to try and piece together what was happening- is this really happening?- the woman's eyes suddenly snapped upwards and caught Fili's. Shock, anger, pain, loss- there were too many emotions registering at once in her eyes for Fili to keep up. He wasn't sure how long they stared at each other- if it were only half a second, or half an hour- but something in her eyes held him spellbound. Something in those depths, caused his breath to catch, and his heart to race faster than ever before- which, considering the circumstances...

"What the hell do you think you're fucking doing in here?"

Fili flinched out of his trance. The man was staring at him, his face a mask of rage. Swiftly and without thinking, Fili was pulling his daggers free, holding them threateningly in the direction of the man.

"Let her go."

The pig laughed, a disgusting, wheezy laugh. "Let who go, 'er?" He asked, pointing to the girl beneath him, who had not budged. "Fella, I think you need to watch yerself, before I come over there and run you through. This here's me wife, an' I don't think she wants you to-

"I saw the money." Fili said, anger filling his voice, causing it to swell. "I saw you pay. Do no take me for a fool- She is no wife of yours." Fili wanted to add that he didn't think any woman would freely chose to even be in the monstrous man's presence, but the thought vanished like stars from daylight when, with a grunt, the girl's arm snapped forward suddenly, burying a knife deep into the man's chest.

"What-?"

Fili took a step back, grip slacking on his knives in shock as he watched the man slowly bring a hand up to his heart, feeling the wooden handle of the dagger. His eyes turned to the girl beneath him.

"You bitch. You fucking bitch- You stabbed me! I... I could kill you!"

He raised a hand, slapping the girl violently across the cheek before a low groan escaped his lips. Clutching at his leaking chest, blood spilling down his front and onto both mattress and girl equally, the man's eyes drifted up, locking with Fili's for a brief moment before he went tumbling off the bed, the dagger pushing deeper into his bleeding heart as he landed, dead, on the floor.

"Mahal save me," Fili whispered before taking a step forward and kicking the man hard. No movement, nothing. Looking up, Fili was greeted with the sight of a blood soaked knife, poised and no doubt ready to slice his throat. The girl had wrapped the gory blanket around her equally blood-smeared body, her eyes glinting dangerously in the candlelight. The knife glinted, it's jagged blade held before the girl threateningly. Her message was clear enough.

Come any closer, and you die.

Thank you to everyone who's faved/reviewed/subbed! Wow! I didn't think this story would be as well received as it was, but because of that, I'm already planning future chapters. Please continue to review your feedback, honestly I really want to hear what you all think, or if you have any suggestions (plus reviews make me feel all warm and tingly inside, and who doesn't love that) :D The next chapter should be out within the week.

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	4. A Shattered Soul

**Chapter Four**

_**A Shattered Soul**_

It is a curious thing, reason. It can end and begin kingdoms, civilizations, relationships, families. Even lives. What could be considered the greatest gift of Man, Elf, Dwarf- the creatures that dwelt under the bright sun of Middle Earth-, could also be considered a curse, since more than half the time the ending result of whatever was being reasoned turned out badly anyways. Reason was not steadfast, either. Ever changing, shaping, morphing into a different form for each circumstance presented. This kaleidoscope of constant change could very easily prove to be the downfall of man. Or, the savior.

Fili stood, frozen as the dark blood of the man lying before him began to pool and lap sluggishly at the tips of his boots. His eyes lowered slightly, so that he was not staring directly at the girl, nor completely away from her: somewhere in-between. From his peripherals he could see the poor thing's hand shaking, her grasp around the knife tighter than a snake constricting it's prey. Fili's breath was coming slow and deliberate, his mind working a mile a minute, thinking, thinking- trying to work out what to do, and how best to do it. This was no situation to be taken lightly, he rationalized with himself. Fili's eyes were distant, mind locked in an internal battle of reasoning with himself.

If he moved fast enough- quick enough that she wouldn't have time to move, or even realize what he was doing- then he could disarm her swiftly. Then again, what if she didn't intend to hurt him at all with the knife? What if she really was warning him to stay away, or else she'd kill herself? It was a horrible thought, and yet possible all the same, Fili knew. The blood beneath him now was engulfing his shoes, sealing him within a sanguine lake of gore swiftly. With the most cautious of glances towards the poor girl upon the bed, who still bared the dagger before her threateningly, Fili released his grip on his daggers, dropping them unceremoniously to the floor before putting his hands up slowly.

"I mean you no harm," He said softly, taking a slow step to the left, out of the enclosing pool of blood, his boots pressing gory patterns into the dull floorboards. Instantly the girl reacted, a panicked whimper escaping her lips as she flung herself backwards, tumbling like a flash of lightning to the other side of the bed, where she sat, the blanket huddled around her front piteously. Her fist tightened harshly around the handle of the knife, knuckles a ghostly white as a trickle of blood from a cut on her palm snaked its way down her forearm to drip onto the mattress. Her hand shook- no, her whole _body_, eyes wide with fright at the possibility that her last defense wasn't working, and instantly Fili was struck with compassion. This girl had been through much, it seemed, and while he was admittedly not well versed in dealing with situations such as this, a part of Fili told him that it was far more serious than he'd originally imagined.

A flash of brown caught Fili's eye, distracting him from his contemplation, and he was certain that the girl had heard his sharp intake of breath. Her hair was dark brown, hanging in dirty tendrils about her face. Once, Fili imagined, it had been long, flowing, shining- something beautiful. But now... It reminded him of Kili, in a way. The hair was much longer than his little brothers, and yet something about the way it fell into her eyes as she glowered at him caused his heart to constrict with horror.

_What if this were Kili?_

This poor girl, so alone in the world, so utterly lost- she must have once had a family, a loving mother and father, a dog who would curl up beside her on cold nights. Perhaps even a sibling or two, who were ripping their hair from their heads at this very moment, so angered and horrified that their beloved sister had- was- Fili swallowed, exhaling shakily. He understood, if only a bit more after his revelation, how this situation must be handled. How he would want another to handle it, if he were in this girl's siblings place. Fili found the girl's eyes, holding her gaze as he slowly sank to the floor. He took care to keep his hands visible, sitting with his back propped the opposite wall, far away from the distraught creature huddled on the bed. He would give her as much space as he could. _A cornered animal will attack if it feels threatened._ Kili's voice echoed in Fili's ears, advice from a hunt long ago. Though this girl might not be an animal, she had do doubt been treated as such, he reasoned with himself.

An awkward silence filled the cold room. The girl was shaking like a leaf caught in a summer gale, her grip on the knife awkward. _She doesn't even know how to hold it properly._ Fili realized sadly. He reverted his gaze to the dirty wooden floorboards before him, absentmindedly readjusting his bracers as the cogs of his mind began to work as quickly as possible given the current situation.

_She can't stay in here.._

While his outer appearance was only a facade of calm (again a skill that he'd honed through the years as an older brother), inside, Fili was near on panicking. He'd _really_ done it this time. How was he supposed to deal with this- this ruined girl? What in Durin's name was he going to do with her, for like it or not, she was his responsibility now. He couldn't just leave her here, and yet the image of Thorin's shock and rage at finding a girl, helpless and with a fractured soul, in his nephews care when they were just embarking on the most important quest of all...

The room's silence was engulfing him now, causing Fili to pick at the fur of his coat-sleeve anxiously. This situation was far above him- he was floundering in the utter vastness of it all. Still, he had to think, talk- anything. He had to do something. And so Fili did.

"I am not here to cause you more torment," his voice was quiet, soft. There was no reply. "Earlier I... I saw you in the tavern. I saw that man hand over his coins and I couldn't-" Fili paused, letting out a slow breath before looking up, eyes searching for hers. "I couldn't just sit by as he shoved you up the stairs." He dropped his gaze quickly. It was the truth, and his heart beat faster with the hope that the girl would realize this. After a moment of undisturbed silence, however, Fili glanced upwards to find her face a blank mask. Her eyes told a different story, however, so clouded in confusion and uncertainty were they. _Her trust must be shattered._ Fili thought, and as much as he did not want to fully face the truth- the magnitude- of the situation, the future prince of Erebor was no coward. She had been bought against her will, since whores were known to wear red bands about their arms and necks to signify their employment. This girl had nearly been raped- had been raped, most likely-, and had been a captive for a long time, judging by her appearance and the crazed look hidden deep within her eyes. A look that was drawing closer and closer as the distressed girl, still clutching the blanket about her, launched herself off the bed, dagger held high, and came charging at Fili. A savage, injured cry escaped her lips, and it was all Fili could do to look up in time before the blade flashed downwards at his heart.

**~*What~Do~You~Wish~For~Most~***

The knife in my hand was slick with my own blood, but my grip on its handle would not slip- this situation was too dire for mistakes. The rage that assailed me as I shot from the bed was blinding- my own conscious was prisoner to any other emotions besides wild fear. I needed to get away, I needed to escape, and he needed to die for me to do that. He _needed_ to die, he _must_ to die, it was the only way... But somewhere in my heart, while I was tearing across the room with that knife poised above me, stayed true to my old self. To the old Finnley. I had just killed a man, I had just taken a life, and here I was again, about to take another. Even as I raised the blade higher still, bringing it down towards the dwarf's heart, my will was becoming my own once more. What was I _thinking_? This was ridiculous, utterly harebrained and incredibly stupid. What had gotten into me that I thought I could just go attacking my captor's customers? Idiocy, apparently. Or desperation. Yes, _desperation_ sounded far more reasonable.

I hadn't really thought before I'd surged from the bed- well, thought _clearly_, that is. The haze of anger and bewildering emotions had done the talking for me, urging me to attack before it was too late, before this fool of a dwarf decided to recapture me back into the bleak life of slavery. I would not be retaken. One way or another, me or him, one of us was going to die. If freedom in life was not the gods wish for me, then freedom in death was my only salvation, and I would take it gladly- Yet this, this killing, this bloodshed... This was not me.

The knife stopped an inch from his heart, hovering, quivering, over his fine clothing. My shaky, gasping breathes filled the room as I forced myself to lower the weapon, fear and horror and trauma at what had just occurred causing my entire body to shake as though the room were colder than the peaks of the Misty Mountains. Blue eyes filled with pure shock, bewilderment, and innocence flicked up suddenly to meet my own, and it was then that I realized how close I'd come to killing the dwarf. He hadn't been expecting my sudden motive of murder, that much was obvious. He hadn't even so much as moved when I'd leapt from the bed, hadn't so much as flinched. I'd truly caught him off guard... He was a warrior, judging from his appearance. I'd caught a glimpse of his knives when he'd barged in- how wicked they had looked! Even now, I could see the two blades gleaming in the candlelight from where they lay forgotten upon the floor. If he was working for them, why hand't he made his move already? I remembered then, he had dropped his blades, discarded them as if they were nothing, put his hands up and told me that he meant me no harm. But I didn't believe him, how could I? After all the lies, all the pain- how _could_ I?

We stared at one another, an eye for an eye, unmoving. My conscious was lost within the assault of inner turmoil. Half of me wanted to run- I could make it to the door, I could slam it shut and run... _run_... But then the other half was shouting over my imaginings of escape, reasoning that I wouldn't get far, that I would be captured. And what of this dwarf before me? He hadn't even moved, hadn't fought back or slapped me, or tackled me to the ground, as any of my captors or those hired by them would have done. No, no he was different. I desperately wanted to believe this, desperately wished that he wasn't lying, that he was truly here to help me... yet my trust in men of any race was poor of late, and my wishes were of the black, demented variety. Over all of this- my thoughts, my adrenaline, my confusion, my uncertainty- came the knowledge, the frightening, sickening knowledge that I had just killed a man, and much like my life for the past months, it was becoming clearer and clearer to me how inescapable I was now, from this new hell, from this new torture.

The knife in my hand clattered to the floor noisily, and I followed soon after, a low sob escaping my lips as I pitched to the side, the shock of my first kill causing my body to go numb. There was a grunt above me, and my head was suddenly saved from banging the ground harshly by a pair of hands that caught my body and held it suspended above the cold floor. Through the great haze of terror and jarring panic that clouded my mind, I could sense that the dwarf was unsure of himself, unsure if I would permit him to touch me, unsure if I still believed him to be a cohort of my captives. If I had been capable of speaking, I could have assured him that his worrying mattered not anymore, so engulfed in my own inner demise was I that even if I'd wanted to, fighting back was not an option for me anymore.

My limbs were heavy, my breath coming in rattling gasps as my eyes shut tight behind dark lids. For the first time in weeks I saw in the blackness behind my eyelids my mother's gentle smile, the loving twinkle in my father's eye, and my brother, laughing as we ran through the woods, bow slung carelessly upon his back. I longed for them. Gods, how I longed for them, for my mother's warm embrace, for my father's words of wisdom. For the smile Shilah had always managed to put on my face. How had this happened to me? How had this life of torment and misery so quickly become mine, for surely only yesterday I was out feeding the chickens, or mingling with the other girls of the village, whispering of handsome faces and future lovers? All of that, ruined. All of that, blackened and stolen, my youth and innocence gone forever, my life in shambles._ You only get one life to live._ My mother would always tell me as she brushed and plaited my long hair. _So make sure, Finnley, that you live it to the fullest._ If only she could see me now, my mother. See how low I'd sunk. This life was more inferior than that of a pig's, wallowing in the mud, waiting to be butchered. This life was nothing to me.

I don't know when I started crying. The tears, hot and damp, glided down my face, mingling with blood and leaving shimmering trails of pink in their wake as they dripped to the floor. The ground dropped out from under me as powerful hands lifted my weak body into equally strong arms. Where was I? What was happening? Why was I being carried? I was too confused, too caught up in my past life, too caught up in what I'd just done- _killed_- to understand anything that was happening anymore. And so I did the only thing I could coherently think of at the moment. My arms came up to wrap themselves around the dwarf, clutching desperately at the leather of his clothing as I buried my tearstained face into the crook of his warm neck and proceeded to tremble and cry as my soul unraveled itself, my entire body racked with sobs. All those long months of wishing, of hoping that I'd get free, and this was my undoing: the killing of a man. I'd killed a man. I'd _murdered_. And now I was being taken again, to where I could not say, yet like the rest of my recent life it probably was not good, wherever it was.

Little did I know, I was again about to be proved how wrong I always seemed to be.

* * *

_I hate English class, I hate writing term papers, and I hate being sick. And I **really** hate all three of them together! Sorry this took so long in getting out, but the real world called (in the form of a sinus infection -_-). I'm back now, so hopefully the next chapter will be out by the end of the weekend! Hope you enjoyed, and please review, I always love feedback :)_


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